Chapter 37: Looking Back to Where It All Began

Often, in the depths of the mundane world, vital energy is at its weakest. Having stayed long in the realm of the Azure Void, Shen Lian found it difficult to readjust upon returning to the mortal realm. The energy he cultivated each day served only to purge the old and accept the new, maintaining the purity of his physical body. This is also why cultivators often conceal themselves in the mountains and wilderness, avoiding the mortal world unless their cultivation methods require them to traverse it.

The mortal world may be unsuitable for cultivating energy, but it is ideal for refining the heart. The Way is created by the heart; with supreme wisdom, even a single flower or leaf can become a world, no longer bound by the mundane or heavenly realms.

The Great Wei Dynasty governed a territory spanning thousands of miles, making it one of the larger states even within Yuan Continent. Surrounding nations, though numerous, were no wider than a thousand miles and far less powerful, thus they had to pay homage to Great Wei regularly.

Although cultivators possessed vast divine powers, they seldom interfered in the rise and fall of human dynasties. The emperor’s authority was upheld by the hearts and minds of countless subjects, imbuing him with a sovereign aura. Every word and deed carried gravity, for “thunder and rain alike are the emperor’s grace.” It was said that even common statues, after long veneration, would gain divine responses. How much more so the emperor, worshipped by millions; his benevolence and authority rooted deeply in the hearts of his people.

If his virtue was without flaw and he commanded the people's loyalty, even gods and buddhas would hesitate to oppose him.

From certain records, Shen Lian learned that some ancient holy emperors, though they never sat in meditation to cultivate energy, ultimately transcended the mundane world, free from disaster or calamity.

In such a vast empire, regime change was a momentous affair, yet it did not devastate most provinces. The emperors of Great Wei bore the surname Zhao; however, the previous emperor was frail and sickly, so power was entrusted to the empress. After the late emperor’s death, the empress ruled as regent and was revered as the “Holy Empress.”

Still unsatisfied, the empress deposed her own son years ago, assuming the throne herself and renaming the kingdom “Great Zhou.” She ruled for thirty years, her edicts widely enforced, and her faction entrenched throughout the court and government. Thus, despite the change in era and dynasty, there was little upheaval.

Only the three northwestern prefectures, including Qingzhou, rebelled under the leadership of a royal family member.

In this world, a female sovereign was not uncommon; numerous nations allowed female succession or even exclusively passed the throne to women. However, since the founding of Great Wei, this was the first such occurrence. Even in previous dynasties, while empress dowagers often governed, when they aged and weakened, power was returned to the wise emperors.

Although the empress purged many royal family members during her reign, the empire’s vastness ensured some escaped or remained hidden. The worldly are always eager to attach themselves to power. The royal leading the rebellion in the northwest was originally the Prince of Qinghe, a descendant of Great Wei’s founding emperor’s elder brother.

The Prince of Qinghe led the uprising with such force that it nearly shook the Dragon Court. Yet the empress, sharp and decisive beyond ordinary men, commanded the central government and dispatched the army, swiftly crushing the rebel forces in less than a month. The strike was like thunder, as if premeditated.

Upon Shen Lian’s return, Qingzhou was far more desolate than when he left. Warfare, whether by rebels or government troops, often brought suffering to the people despite claims of strict discipline. The rebel army was no exception; their defeat was swift and their fleeing soldiers caused hardship among the populace. Shen Lian did what he could—eliminating harmful deserters and opportunistic bandits like weeds.

This was his first true experience of killing, yet he felt little. With his current state of mind, even mountains of corpses and seas of blood would not disturb his peace. Unlike ordinary men, he neither feared nor loathed killing.

The road beneath his feet had been built by his late grandfather to facilitate commerce. Though Shen Lian appeared calm, he moved swiftly along this trade route like drifting smoke. Even so, he continued his mission to rid the people of harm.

Most cultivators, upon encountering such matters in the world, would likely ignore them; the world is vast, and injustice is constant. If one tried to intervene in every instance, how could it ever end?

Shen Lian was no swordsman who bore the burden of all mortal injustice, but neither was he indifferent.

He arrived at Qingzhou Prefecture. The city walls still stood, but its livelihood had vanished.

Stealthily entering the city, Shen Lian reached the Shen family estate, now little more than ruins. Though he had expected this, the sight still pained him.

He clearly remembered the old man who had earnestly hoped he would inherit the family legacy, as well as the young girl who had once looked upon him with disdain. He recalled the old man’s wrinkles and the fine hairs curling on the girl’s earlobes as if they were present.

He did not consider himself heartless and felt sorrow, yet if given a choice, he would still pursue immortality and the Dao without regret.

The modest pride he had felt in protecting the people now seemed a cruel irony.

He was not at fault, yet still bore guilt.

Suddenly, a talisman paper appeared in the void before him, landing in his left hand. He pricked his right thumb, drawing blood from his index finger, and without stopping the flow, used his blood as ink and his finger as brush. Like a dragon and serpent racing across the paper, a blood-red cloud pattern quickly formed on the talisman.

With his left hand, he traced a faint illusion that spread outward. Then a paper crane soared from the air, pecking his head lightly before circling the courtyard and flying off in a certain direction.

Shen Lian’s expression shifted solemnly. With a flick of his feathered robe, its broad sleeves spread like wings, lifting him gently as he followed the paper crane.

Ordinary people could not see him, for he had woven an illusion to conceal his presence, lest he cause alarm in the mortal world.

The paper crane bore a blood trail. Should any of his blood relatives still live, their faint aura could be detected, and the spirit’s guidance might yet lead him to a surviving member of the Shen family.

******

Qingxia Mountain was Shen family property. Since Shen Lian’s departure, no one had tended to the Qingxia Temple atop the mountain.

In recent years, commerce in Qingzhou Prefecture had flourished. Many villagers at the mountain’s base moved to towns for work, earning far more than toiling the land all year. As a result, the mountain villages were abandoned.

By the year before last, even the last household had left, turning the area into wilderness.

Few remembered that the mountain once belonged to the Shen family.

The stone steps leading up were overgrown with wild grass and barely visible. Perhaps rockslides had caused parts of the mountain to collapse, taking the steps with them.

It was unlikely anyone knew a mountain path had once existed here, much less that a temple was hidden deep within.

The temple itself was dilapidated, scarcely offering shelter from wind and rain.

The paper crane descended, landing atop a pile of collapsed walls. Shen Lian’s figure approached silently, halting before the ruins. Behind the crumbled walls, he saw a small girl covered in dust, crouched in a corner.

[Thanks to generous patrons for their support, congratulations to fellow cultivators on their achievements.]